If you go through the yellow door,
​You cannot go through the blue one.
Who cares about the blue? I’m glad
To find a mint sprig in my tea

In a glass on a red table
And my loved one singing a song
About people who have lived lives
They never should have dared to live.

We are all cheated in the end.
Who cares about the end? I’m glad
To have learned to read, to have loved
At least one bright bird and one house.

Right now I will be — no, right now
The night, casual with cricket-
Song, tosses up a moon so bright
That it whistles in the dead trees.